Snippets of the Skirata Clan
by emjalen
Summary: The Skirata Clan is a dynamic group, but Traviss rarely shows us how they come across to other people. An outsider's POV on defining moments for members of the Skiratas. Up- Jilka's reaction to Besany telling her she was dating an clone. Next- Captain Obrim's view of Fi, the brave soldier who threw himself on a bomb and saved his people but can except no salvation for himself.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer- I don't own Star Wars. Or the Republic/Imperial Commando series. Or the Star Wars video games for that matter. Alas, if I did I would have money, but as I have a college student's wallet, no dice. The recognizable text was taken from Karen Traviss' True Colors.

Summary- Karen Traviss shows us a lot of people's reactions, but only the bare bones of it. What outsiders thought when dealing with various members of the Skirata Clan. First up- Jilka Zan Zentis' reaction to Besany telling her she was dating a member of the GAR.

_-There: she'd said the __**B**__ word to herself, and now to Jilka. If she called Ordo anything else, she would have proved to herself that she was ashamed of what he was, making him less than human." _

Jilka ducked her head around Besany Wennen's door, and saw the statuesque blond biting her lip as she stared at the holo screen in front of her, frown lines creasing her pale brow. But then, Besany seemed to do nothing but stare off into space or at her work frowning these days. She needed, as far as Jilka was concerned, to lighten up a little.

"Lunch, Bez?" she called to the other woman, and only felt slightly irritated as Besany just about jumped out of her skin. Sheesh. She needed to take Besany out to the spa or something and get her to talk. The blond needed to relax, before she gave herself a heart attack.

Her answer was what Jilka had come to escape of her friend. "Busy...monitoring reports to do..."

Jilka bit back a sigh of exasperation; she knew from past experiences that gentler tactics were needed to pull Besany out of her office.

"Are you okay?" the tax enforcer asked.

Besany's eyes, to Jilka's irritation, remained glued to the numbers on the screen in front of her. "You keep asking me that lately," the blond countered, avoiding answering her question.

"You haven't been yourself for awhile," Jilka retorted, frustrated. Besany had always been far more serious than her, taking everything to heart, but something was had been clearly bothering her for quite some time now, and Jilka was sick of trying to get it out of her. It was time to confront the problem head on, a tactic Jilka was more comfortable and familiar with.

Besany finally looked at her, and her dark eyes showed a defensive anger Jilka didn't understand. "My...boyfriend's serving in the Grand Army. And I spend my days waiting to hear that he isn't dead, okay?"

Oh.

_Ohh. _

Jilka felt her spine snap straight in shock, a little bit of anger, and sudden empathy. Besany Wennen, so gorgeous she intimidated men and too shy and awkward to seek them, had a boyfriend? Well, good for her. Well, good for her. It was about time Besany got with someone; maybe this man of her's would help the blond lighten up. Still, why hadn't she told Jilka sooner? There were all _sorts _of things Jilka could educated Besany on about relationships between a man and a woman and the way to keep the man engaged that beautiful, awkward, and earnest Besany probably didn't know, or even have a clue of. Then again, Besany had said he was in the GAR. Maybe her friend hadn't had a chance to go that far with her new man.

Jilka suddenly felt ashamed of her previous thought. Besany was the most beautiful woman she knew, and not just in looks. If anyone deserved a good man who would treat her like a goddess, it was Besany. It seemed though that she had found a man just as devoted to civic duty as herself, which was a shame.

"I'm sorry-" she apologized to the other woman, "I didn't realize. We don't have that many citizens serving, do we?"

"Clones don't get citizenship."

Besany's calm statement was like a punch in the gut. Besany was dating a _clone_? Could a citizen even date a clone? They weren't...well, they weren't like men. Not really. More machine than man, and certainly not capable of any emotional depth. What was Besany thinking? What woman voluntarily dated a _clone_? That wasn't a real relationship, that was...the tax enforcer didn't even know what to call it. Where had Besany even met a clone in the first place, much less talked to one? Then she remembered the other woman's little trip to the logistics center.

Jilka felt her eyes water, and the tax enforcer realized that she and Besany had been starring at each other. Besany's eyes were proud and hard and Jilka could hardly recognize the woman in front of her.

"Wow," she said flatly, the word not fully enunciating her shocked disgust. "You must have had more fun doing that investigation at the logistics center than I thought."

Which Besany hadn't said a word about when she'd come back, and had avoided the subject of. Jilka slipped out of her- well, Besany was still her friend, but Jilka certainly wasn't having lunch with her any more- _acquaintance's_ doorway and speed walked down to Marcie's office. A citizen, dating a _clone _trooper? She _had _to tell someone about this. Besany didn't seem to understand what she had done, and Jilka couldn't understand her actions.

As she clicked down the hall way, Jilka wondered what had happened to her intelligent friend who, just an hour ago, she would have sworn would never do something so outrageous as talk to a clone trooper, much less date one.

_End_

_So, please tell me what you think! I love doing little snippets like this, looking in from an outsider's view, and Traviss leaves so many moments like these open. Feel free to leave suggestions of interactions that you want to see! Next up, I'm thinking another moment between Jilka and Besany, or Captain Jaller Obrim's thoughts on Fi. _

_Also, if you love Rep Com and you haven't checked out TheLightIsMine's __Reasons to Live For__, you must do it now. Seriously, you're missing out on a big part of fandom and loving family- and other kinds of loving- clone interaction if you don't. While I'm publicizing, I've recently started a multi-chapter fic centered around the Skirata Clan called __Into the Abyss: Descent__. Please, pop in and tell me what you think!_

_-Tahiri Veila Solo_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer- I don't own Star Wars; that belongs to George Lucas. The Republic Commando series belongs to Karen Traviss. All recognizable text is taken from _True Colors_, part of the Republic Commando series.

Warnings- Spoilers for True Colors

Author's Note- I know I promised Jaller's POV from Omega Squad: Targets, but this insisted on being written instead. I think it shows more Jaller's thoughts anyways- there was hardly anything to go on in Targets.

Jaller Obrim stood watching the heart-wrenching scene of Jusik, a Jedi who had Kal Skirata's approval, pore his soul into healing the broken republic commando known as Fi and wondered when everything had gone so wrong. Furiously, he blinked back tears from his eyes. It was always hard to see the men and women he'd worked with get hurt, sometimes not to ever recover, but this was...Fi was different. Fi didn't have a family, a home, a spouse, children, or colleagues. His business was war, his brothers and a Mandalorian sergeant his family, his friends his fellow soldiers. He was so young...too young.

Besany Wennen, the drop-dead gorgeous treasury agent with a heart as brave as any CSF officer, tugged on his sleeve, leading him into the kitchen, and he looked away from the tears in her dark eyes. Besany had started an armed siege for Fi; she cared just as much, if not more about Fi than he did. After all, as far as Jaller could tell, she was dating Ordo, the ARC captain who counted Fi as one of his brothers. Jaller needed to do something, so he started making caf, distantly aware he was making mess, but it was all he could do. He had to keep moving- if he didn't, he'd break something. Finally, he couldn't take the silence.

"He's never going to be back to normal, is he?" Jaller asked, and heard his voice crack. "Even if he makes ninety percent-" which would be a miracle, but with a Jedi healer Fi just might- "of what he was, it'll still be very hard on him."

Jaller had watched to many of his officers break trying to forces their minds and bodies to function in ways they just couldn't anymore. He'd never thought funny, brave, and boyish Fi would be one of them.

"The clones have a very high definition of _normal_, I've found. They're also incredibly resilient," Besany said, trying to comfort him.

He couldn't accept it though, couldn't let himself be soothed. "That in boy in there...that boy saved my men from a grenade during a siege, by _throwing himself on it. _I'd say that's worth more than a thank-you and a few ales at the CSF Staff Club. He can stay here as long as he needs to. Right?"

Jaller didn't know what he was asking Besany, but he had to pay Fi back somehow. He couldn't give him a life outside of the GAR. He couldn't fight with him, couldn't help him. But Jaller could damn well give him shelter when he needed it for saving over his men's lives through heroic self sacrifice.

"Right. And I'm glad," she continued, changing the subject tactfully, "Kal's got a friend he can turn to. Someone his own age to play with, eh?"

Besany's attempt to lighten his spirits fell flat, but he gave her credit for trying even as he kept silent. Tough, this one. Ordo had a good girl in her. He felt a strange kinship with her- this woman he didn't know but through Skirata, but a fellow citizen and government employee like him; and, like him, apparently a human being of conscience, something sadly lacking these days.

"Is this what we elected?" He asked the blond, truly wanting an answer from someone who understood; Kal wasn't a citizen and hated the Republic, and a captain couldn't ask his officers political questions.

"What?" Besany looked confused at his change of subject.

"We both work for government enforcement. We're Coruscant citizens. Is this what we thought we were getting as part of the deal? What's happening to the Republic?"

"I know," Besany soothed. "I've asked myself the same thing-"

Jaller interrupted her, knowing it was rude but unable to stop the words flowing. "I did twenty-eight years in the Senate Guard before I transferred to CSF. Did I take my eye off the ball? I wonder if it happened on my watch and I didn't spot it," he blurted, emptying the fears that had been gnawing at him in the dead of night ever since he met Omega.

"Police can only deal in law. Not ethics," Besany told him. It wasn't anything he hadn't heard before though.

"But these decisions are being made by the politicians I've known and protected for years. It makes it...personal betrayal, I suppose."

Did Bail Organa, who talked so convincingly about peace, sign off on papers that killed boys like Fi without a qualm?

Did the senators who made up the budget committee and always spent late nights sign away billions of credits to create a slave army without a yawn?

Did senators who campaigned so fiercely for more creds to be put into things like education, health, and the CSF like Senator Amidala even protest against making living, intelligent, brave men into something less than slaves?"

When had this happened? Had the seeds of corruption always been there? Had he always been so blind?

"_Technically_," the CSF captain continued, "in law, we just stole government property. Like taking old office equipment from a department dumpster, not a living, breathing man with rights. How did we ever let that happen?"

"It didn't happen over night. It crept up on us." Besany sounded as tired and disillusioned as he felt.

"But who's going to do anything about it?" he asked her, knowing she couldn't have an answer but having to ask it, no, _demand _it anyways. "The Senate's smiling and nodding, and even the Jedi Council-" he stopped himself. "Okay, I talk to Jusik to much."

At least one Jedi though seemed to realize what was happening was wrong and was trying to do what the Jedi _should _be doing.

"He's going to rebel, isn't he?" Besany seemed very sure as she asked the question.

"He's not wearing the robes, I can tell you that. Very moral boy. _Very_ moral. None of this seeing stuff _from a certain point of view_. No ambiguity. He calls it as he sees it."

He liked Jusik,a lot, and in some ways the boy was just as trapped as Fi's brothers. If Jusik left the Jedi Order, he'd have a home with Jaller, though he suspected Kal would take the boy in.

"Can they leave?" Besany asked him, worried. "Can Jedi resign?"

"No idea," Jaller answered truthfully. The idea of a Jedi not being a Jedi was mind-boggling; he'd never heard of such a thing, but he doubted that when it did happen the Jedi publicized it. "Maybe they get them to turn in their belt and lightsaber or something." Like a CSF officer retiring, only different.

"We'll find out. Ordo says there'll be a showdown with his boss before too long."

Besany sounded very confident and with that, she parted. Jaller hoped she was right, if only so someone with a chance at saving him could save Fi. If Jusik didn't leave though...well. He was prepared to offer sanctuary for Fi until the republic commando's body gave out.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer- I don't own Star Wars; that belongs to George Lucas. The Republic Commando series belongs to Karen Traviss. All recognizable text is taken from _True Colors_, part of the Republic Commando series.

Warnings- Spoilers for True Colors, Triple Zero, and Omega Squad: Targets

**Treasury offices, Coruscant, 478 days after Geonosis**

Jilka, distracted by the rather complicated form in front of her, was slow to look up when Besany Wennen, who's friendship had been shaky since she'd started dating that clone trooper, wandered in, perched causally on her filing cabinet in a very non-Besany manner and said, "I have to ask you a big favor. And you can say no."

Besany's tone, as always, was serious, and Jilka restrained a sigh. Things were just so _awkward _between them...what should she say? Resisting the urge to bite her lip, she decided to go for humor.

"If it involves doubling up on a date, I remember the last time..." Jilka purposely trailed off, calling to mind the disastrous double date she'd had last year with Besany and how much they'd laughed about afterward. She had ended up spending the night on Besany's couch, and the two had stayed up late in a fit of adolescence, watching romantic comedies and eating everything bad for them.

Some of the tension left Besany's face, and Jilka felt relieved. Humor, check. Besany was just so different and distant these days, she didn't know how to talk to her.

"Actually, it doesn't, but if that would seal the deal, I can introduce you to a very pleasant young man."

"Let me think about," Jilka responded. After all, Besany's version of nice and _her _version were two very different things. "What's the favor?"

"I need to know about a company called Dhannut Logistics. They caught my eye, but I can't find out where they're based even though they're an approved Republic contractor."

_Well, this sounded a lot more interesting than tedious paperwork..._

"Oh, you just don't know where to look, sweetheart. If they're taking out our credits, we'll be squeezing corporation tax out of them. And if we aren't, I'll be delighted to introduce them to the experience of filling out form two-slash-nine-seven-alpha-eight-alpha," Jilka promised Besany sincerely.

"Dhannut Logistics," Besany repeated. "Dee, aitch, ay, double enn, yoo, tee. They probably build medical facilities."

Jilka switched out screens and pulled up her programs, typing the name in. "And how much has poured into their coffers from the unfortunate taxpayer's pocket?"

"I can identify about fifty billion."

Jilka's fingers froze in mid-movement, and then she scrolling down through her search results furiously, clicking. _Fifty billion credits_..._oh, but this would be fun to track down!_ Nothing quite made her day like the look of a being realizing that the Republic had got up with them and was going to pry every ill-gained credit from their greedy, dishonest hands.

"That's just the teeniest bit over the taxable revenue threshold, isn't it?" Jilka commented, not excepting an answer. "Let's see what I can find."

_Hmmm..._

Jilka pulled up another screen, pursing her lips. No address, but...

"You're right," she informed Besany, disappointed both that she hadn't caught serious, efficient Besany in a mistake and that it wasn't easy. "No street address. But they paid their tax in full, and I have their accountant's details here. Odd."

"Why?" the blond woman asked.

"You shouldn't be able to file a tax return without the address of your head office, but this has gone through the system," Jilka answered.

"I'm going to tell you that doesn't surprise me."

Besany, Jilka reflected, had turned into quite the cynic lately. "Medical equipment, you say?"

"Facilities. I'm guessing construction or specialist fitting out. Maybe they're not even based on Triple Zero."

"Triple What?" Jilka asked the other woman. She'd never heard _that _term before, and there weren't many words related to taxes, credits, and government forms that she _didn't_ know.

"Sorry, fleet slang." _Of course it is, Jilka thought. Everything about you these days has to do with the GAR. _"Here. Coruscant."

Jilka decided to graciously ignore Besany's mistake. "Oh, they're based here, all right. They wouldn't file the returns in Galatic City otherwise. This has a GCCC code."

Sometimes, Jilka really loved how much information her job opened her to.

"Any chance of slipping me the accountant's address?"

Jilka scribbled the address on a scrap of flimsi, cheerfully but seriously warning Besany, "Never came from me. Didn't go through the message system." Only an idiot would use the message something, which recorded everything, even the things it wasn't supposed to. "And I've never seen you before in my life." If Besany got her pulled up in court, she _would_ deny being the woman's friend, but Jilka didn't think that would happen. Besany would be careful.

"If anything else crops up...Dhannut, anyone dealing with Dhannut...let me know?" Besany requested.

"Certainly," Jilka promised. "You've got me intrigued now. What's rung your bell? Fraud?"

"I think it's a front for other activity. Because I'm missing their details on the database of approved Republic contractors, too. Which also shouldn't be possible," Besany replied.

"Sounds mucky," Jilka warned her, and then noticed the flash of silver on Besany's waist. "I notice you're packing a blaster now. Sensible idea."

Jilka had her own blaster that she took with her when needed, but she'd never seen Besany utilizing one in the Treasury before.

"Just think about it. Dhannut appears in _two _databases that it shouldn't be able to get an entry in. If it's not legit, and they haven't' sliced into the system, then someone with government access has _let _them in," Besany said, dark eyes angry.

"You just can't get the staff these days," Jilka responded, flippant but angry. She hated it when people cheated, especially on credits which affected everybody.

"And folks think we just shuffle files all day long..."

Jilka would have snorted if it hadn't been so unattractive. The action of doing something important and sometimes life-threatening was what drew her to Treasury, but most people had no idea. One of the reasons she'd dumped her last boyfriend; man had no idea how to appreciate how important her job was.

"So do I get the very pleasant young man? Is he tasty?" Jilka questioned. After all, her ex had been gone for three months now, and a girl had needs.

"He's very fit and you certainly won't loose your appetite when you look at him," Besany answered, laughter in her voice as her dark eyes gleamed.

"Deal."

There were worse things done than scoring a date after all; at least Besany hadn't asked her to go on a double date with her and that clone of her's.

"I'll ask him the next time I see him," Besany promised.

A question was suddenly raised in Jilka's suspicious mind. "If he's that wonderful, why weren't _you _interested?"

"I've got one just like him."

Jilka felt...she didn't know. There were emotions rising in her stomach but she didn't want to know what they were.

"Ah. _Ah_."

It was the only thing she could say that wouldn't destroy her and Besany's rocky friendship. She liked Besany, she really did, but...

"Don't knock it till you try it," Besany said, tone striving for light but falling flat, serious; a warning.

Jilka exhaled through her nose, tried, and failed to ignore Besany's comment. Her friend was trying to set her up with a _clone_?

"You've changed, Bez," she said, imploring her friend's nickname, trying to lessen the blow. "And I don't mean that you look like you're in love either."

Because if Besany had looked like she was in love and deliriously happy, Jilka would have accepted this..._clone_, even if she did think the blond woman had lost her mind. But Besany didn't look happy, she looked worried, sick, and tired. She'd lost weight, her face had gotten thinner, starker, and the dark circles beneath her eyes got bigger every day. This clone wasn't making Besany happy, and that was the only reason Jilka would have accepted him.

Besany gave her a cool smile, and Jilka felt her heart drop. She knew that smile. It was the one Besany reserved for people she didn't like and was getting ready to slam with enough evidence to see them in jail.

"Thanks, Jilka. I owe you."

And with that, Besany Wennen slipped out of her office, a tall, blond silhouette into the hall. Jilka couldn't help but wonder if Besany was slipping out of her life too. She and Besany had drawn lines in the sand, and they'd both stepped over them today. Whatever was up with Besany, Jilka hoped the blond woman got over it, and _if _she did, Jilka would forgive her, after a period of coolness of course. Because even if Besany was turning into someone she didn't know or understand, Jilka was pretty sure it wasn't the other woman's fault.

No, Jilka Zan Zentis placed the blame squarely at the feet of Besany's boyfriend, the clone trooper the blond woman called Ordo.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer- I don't own Star Wars. That belongs to George Lucas, I think, assuming Disney hasn't taken over. I don't own the Republic Commando series either; that wonderful work belongs to Karen Traviss, bless her. The recognizable text in this comes straight from _True Colors_.

Author's Note- This one is a bit shorter, partly because the scene is, and partly because I have a Latin exam tomorrow. I've cut chapter one up into bits, from both Sergeant Barlex and the loadmaster's POV. Also, feel free to give a scene that you want to see in your review! All suggestions are welcome.

**470 Days after Geonosis, Sergeant Barlex's POV**

"Nice of you to join us, Omega," I said, in no mood to have to deal with more commandos, especially _Mando _ones. Prima donas, all of them. "And may I be the first to say that you like a bunch of complete prats?"

Those were fighting words, right there, but Omega kept silent, just adjusting their winged jet pack. Normally I'd be envious that these boys got toys that mine didn't, but these simply didn't look _safe_.

One of them activated his wing mechanism, and the two blades swung into a horizontal position with a hiss of hydraulics, nearly smacking me in the face, had I not ducked. Then the commando had the nerve to smile flapped his arms. "Want to see my impression of a Geonosian?"

I nearly hit him, my fists clenching inside my gloves. "What, plummeting to the ground in a spray of bugsplatter after I put a round through you," I snarled at him, unable to restrain myself.

"You're so _masterful_."

"I'm so a _sergeant, _Private-"

"Couldn't you at least get us matte-black ones?" the cheeky idiot who I was considering murdering interrupted. "I don't want to plunge to my doom with uncoordinated accessories. People will talk."

"You'll have white and _like_ it," I snapped, in no mood to deal with the private's antics. "Anyways, I thought you bunch were born-again Mandalorians. Jet packs should make you feel right at home," I countered, and felt bitterness rise in my mouth. How could these men, so genetically close to me, my _brothers_, be so enthusiastically, fanatically _Mandalorian_?

"Off for caf and cakes afterward?"

I ignored the jab. "Orders are to drop extra materiel and other useless ballast, meaning you, and then shorten our survival odds again by popping in for a chat with the Seps on Miriam."

The cheeky private clasped his hands under his chin, feigning hurt concern. "Is is the _Mando_ thing that's coming between us, dear?"

I nearly spit, but that doesn't tend to work out for my HUD. "Just my appreciation if the irony that we're fighting _Mando _mercenaries in some places."

"I'd better keep you away from Sergeant Kal, then..."

"Yeah, you do that," I told him. "I lost ten brothers thanks to them."

I'd heard of Sergeant Kal Skirata- Mando mercenary, fanatic, and devoted to turning all my brothers in Mandalorians. If I ever met him, I'd punch him.

The compartment went silent, but I didn't care. These _Mando _commandos were no brothers of mine.

**The Loadmaster on the **_**Core Conveyor**_

"Deeces," I told Omega Squad, not looking up from my datapad, and wondered if they had taken a swing at Sergeant Barlex for snarling at them. "And a few E-Webs and one large arty piece."

"How many 'Webs," one of the commandos asked.

"Fifty."

"Is that the best we can do?"

I looked up at the new boys, and hoped they couldn't see me startle. Four commandos, bulky and menacing and in matte-black Katarn armor towered over me. It was an impressive site.

"We've been arming them for a year. Just a top-up," I told them, reaching for the rail as I hooked my safety line to it. I could understand why they weren't happy though- in their boots, I wouldn't be thrilled about their assignment either. It probably didn't help their mood that Barlex had gone off on them; just because they were commandos didn't mean they were Mandalorians...

"If it's any comfort, you look pretty sinister in that black rig. Even with the white wings. I don't think you're a bunch of overrated Mando-loving weirdos at all..."

One of them gave me a bow. "May all your future deployments be with the Galactic Marines on 'fresher detail, _ner vod_."

Before I could respond- or try to dial down what I'd say- obviously Omega _was_ a reborn again _Mando _squad- one them got up in my face. "What's your problem pal?"

"Just wondering," I said neutrally, unable to let it drop, remembering my brothers' faces in my mind.

"Wondering _what_?"

"Mandos. You ever fought those guys? I have. They keep popping up in Sep forces. They kill us. And you were raised to be good little _Mando_ boys. Is that who you feel you are?"

Okay, so I couldn't dial my hostility.

"Let's put it this way," the one who had bowed to me answered. "I don't feel like a Republic citizen, because none of us are, in case you haven't noticed. We don't exist. No vote, no identifications docs, no rights."

One of them who had stayed silent the whole time shoved him in the back, the sergeant I guessed. "One-Five, shut it. Loadmaster, wind your neck in and don't question our loyalty, or I'll have to smack you. Now let's get to work."

So I did; I had a job to do and aggravating commandos wasn't it. The one had a point about the Republic- but going _Mando _instead? I couldn't understand it and I didn't. Our job was to fight for the Republic, ungrateful or not, and the Mandalorians were the enemies of the Republic. I cut off that train of thought. Omega weren't as good as Seps, they were republic commandos, and about to risk their necks in a mission any legion would call suicidal.

'Brothers all,' I reminded myself and told Omega to stay safe. The problem, Barlex would later tell me, was recognizing who our brothers were and which ones were enemies who merely wore our faces.


End file.
